


Long Night

by pierrot



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:54:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28542117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pierrot/pseuds/pierrot
Summary: Some realisations were dangerous.
Relationships: Qian Kun/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Long Night

**Author's Note:**

> I have little interest in dealing with RL relatives in fic, so let's assume this is set at a point when Chenle is living alone.

The uncomfortable truth was that Chenle was pretty.

He wasn’t obviously pretty, the way someone like Winwin was. That sort of prettiness became almost mundane once Kun got used to seeing him every day. Chenle was pretty during inopportune moments; such as now when he was staring out of the car window, street lights casting a soft glow over the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. His eyes had such a faraway look to them that Kun found himself unintentionally drawing closer, wanting to see more, until the tug of his seatbelt brought him back to reality.

Kun settled back in his seat, but he continued to look. These moments of realisation were dangerous. They kept him locked into place with the enormity of it all, unable to make sense of when exactly everything changed. He felt lost.

Too exhausted from the long day, he wasn’t able to pull himself together before Chenle caught him staring.

“What?” Chenle said, looking right at him.

Kun scrambled for an excuse. He fell short.

“Nothing,” he said with a small shake of his head. He turned away, seeking solace in his view of the city passing by.

He didn’t need to look back to know Chenle continued to stare at him for a long time afterwards.

\--

When they pulled up to Chenle’s building, their manager turned to Kun and said, “Are you getting out here, or am I taking you back to the dorm?”

It wasn’t unusual for Kun to go to Chenle’s place after his radio show. Sharing dinner and a bottle of wine in the peaceful comfort of Chenle’s apartment was far nicer than returning to the chaos of the dorm. Sometimes Kun went back to the dorm after dinner, but sometimes he just stayed the night.

Chenle hadn’t moved since the manager posed his question. He was waiting, quietly, for Kun’s response. Kun knew it would not be a problem if he wanted to crash at Chenle’s tonight. The decision was entirely up to him.

Kun also knew that on his phone were two missed calls from the producer he’d been casually seeing recently. He could be back at the dorm in ten minutes, and into a taxi soon after.

“I’ll get out here,” said Kun. “Thanks.”

\--

Kun had yet to fall asleep when he heard the door to the spare room creak open.

He had two options: stay how he was, with his eyes closed and his breath trying to come slow and steady, waiting to see what came next. Or he could sit up and turn on the light. Maybe that way he could take control early.

Kun always struggled with making a clean decision. He opened his eyes and rolled onto his back, hands resting across his chest, above the covers. With every movement Chenle made, Kun felt his eyes adjust to the darkness.

Chenle stopped when he reached the bed.

“I can’t sleep.”

Kun had been here before. “Chenle,” he said. His voice felt rough and raw in his throat. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

He knew Kun was not about to put it into words.

Kun allowed himself a moment of stubborn hesitation before he moved aside. Chenle crawled in quickly beside him, taking up the available space.

He looked at Kun when he was settled, turned onto his side. Kun didn’t look back. He stared upwards into the darkness, not wanting to show any sign of the anticipation that thrummed in his veins.

Chenle’s first move was always different. Kun didn’t know whether it was curiosity that drove him, or just a desire to be unpredictable. Tonight he slid a steady hand under the covers and across Kun’s chest, coming to rest just below Kun’s collarbone. Chenle’s palm lay flat against Kun’s bare skin.

Kun wondered if Chenle could feel his heartbeat.

The first brush of a fingertip against his nipple made Kun shiver. He wasn’t given long to dwell on the sensation; Chenle moved quickly, drawing irregular patterns across Kun’s chest with his hand, fingers curling occasionally to scrape faint lines with blunt nails. Underneath the touch, Kun’s muscles tensed and relaxed. There was no real rhythm to it. Chenle was driven by idle whims, and Kun was simply reactive.

A light pressure on the waistband of Kun’s boxers made him tense up completely.

Beside him, Chenle was grinning, Kun was sure.

“Relax,” said Chenle. “I’m not doing anything.”

“How can I relax?”

Kun’s voice was strained, sounding harsh in the quiet of the dark room in a way Chenle’s hadn’t.

Chenle’s response to him was simple. “You know how.”

He shifted then, onto his back. His hand remained where it was: flat against Kun’s stomach, fingers splayed wide enough for his pinky to cross the barrier that kept them from going too far. He wasn’t going to move again, Kun knew. Kun could fall asleep or move Chenle’s hand and that would be that.

Kun reached up to take Chenle’s hand. He barely hesitated before guiding it lower.

That’s what got Chenle off. He liked to tease, with soft touches and whispered murmurs, but what he ultimately wanted was for Kun to take control. Kun could feel it in the way Chenle immediately rolled closer to him, his breath hot against Kun’s neck.

“Couldn’t stop think about this all night,” Chenle said, a little too loud for Kun’s comfort. “The way you were staring at me in the car. You’ve been thinking about it too, right?”

Chenle’s strokes were on the edge of too fast. Kun rolled his hips, hoping to disrupt his rhythm for at least a moment.

“Say it,” said Chenle. He got the hint, slowing down. “I want to hear you say it. Tell me you wanted this.”

Every time Kun opened his mouth, his chest felt tight.

If he couldn’t say what Chenle wanted to hear, there was only one option left to him. Kun wasn’t above playing dirty. He knew how to distract.

Touching Chenle was always the moment when everything became too real. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t want this: Chenle grinding into his fist, moaning into his shoulder, teeth grazing at skin with no real intention but to connect. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t also moaning; softer than Chenle, but still just as desperate.

Kun’s eyes were shut when he turned his head. From the feeling of Chenle’s breath touching his lips with every exhale, Kun could tell how close he was.

He opened his eyes and didn’t close them again.

\--

“We should clean up,” said Kun, once his breathing had steadied.

The room felt unbearably still. Only the slow rise and fall of his chest offered any distraction.

Chenle grunted. “Too tired.” His head was already buried into a pillow, his eyes firmly closed.

At Kun’s insistence, he moved, but only to take off his boxers. The balled-up fabric served as a makeshift cloth; a few quick swipes before being dumped on the floor. It was more than a little disgusting, but nothing Kun said convinced Chenle to get up to take shower.

Kun went by himself. He left Chenle behind to sleep in the bed that wasn’t even his own, comfortably sprawled across the mattress.

In the bathroom, he stripped quickly, careful to avoid catching his reflection in the mirror before he made it into the shower. The water was freezing when he first turned the knobs. He stepped under the spray regardless, waiting for it to heat up past the point of comfortable warmth, until it felt like he was burning, and he closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to everyone who has put up with my attempts to figure out kunle. it's all been a bit rough, but i genuinely like them a lot and i hope the tag becomes more plentiful in 2021.


End file.
